Last Chance at the Someday Café

by Angel Smits

  Morgan slid his hands to her hips, against her skin, sliding the rest of her clothing off, down over her legs as he laid her back. Stretched out, she felt his gaze trail over every inch of her.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered.

  “And you’re too dressed.”

  “And it’s going to stay that way.” His smile dimmed only slightly.

  “What?”

  “No condoms, baby.” He shrugged. “And I didn’t see you bring a purse or anything with you.”

  “I—” Now she was embarrassed. She was thinking like a clueless teenager. “I didn’t intend—”

  “I know. It’s no problem.” Morgan put a finger over her lips to stop the next excuse she’d come up with. “I don’t take chances. I knew before we started this. So, lie back and relax.”

  “But, Morgan—” She tried to sit up, tried to reach for him.

  “I can take care of that, too.” He leaned down and silenced her with a kiss that took her sanity along with her next words.

  He stretched out beside her, his big frame taking up most of the space. It didn’t matter as he pulled her to lie beside him, her head on his shoulder.

  His hands slid up and down her back, over her curves, cupping her ass possessively, then up to feather over her ribs. His touch relaxed her, and she felt herself drifting nearly to sleep.

  She tried to resist touching him, really she did. She didn’t want to be a cruel tease, but her fingers itched to feel his skin.

  Slowly, tentatively, she rubbed her fingertips in the shallow valley at his breastbone, then she trailed down to the hard ridges gracing his abdomen. Soft strands of hair tickled her fingertips, the trail leading to the waistband of the pants he’d left on. To protect her.

  She played until a soft moan escaped him. Glancing up, she saw that he’d clenched his jaw and had his eyes closed tight. “Morgan. Let me...” She stumbled over the words. Instead, she slid her hand down to the fly of his jeans. The hard, hot ridge of his erection throbbed even through the thick material. “Let me touch you. Like you touched me.”

  She looked at his face again. His eyes were open, heat pouring out of them, scorching her. She ached where he’d touched her before.

  She couldn’t look away but found her way by touch. The metal closure resisted her insistent touch. When he reached down to help, she thought she might lose it then and there. The fabric parted and she had to experience all of him. She looked down.

  Her hand looked so small compared to his length, but she managed to encircle him and hold on. Slowly, she explored him, feeling the solidness, the softness, the heated damp, all of him.

  “Don’t stop, baby,” he asked so softly she almost didn’t hear him. “I’m so close.”

  He surprised her by cupping her bare breast, tweaking her nipple and nearly distracting her from her mission. He seemed determined to stretch out their pleasure, but as her climax threatened, it only made her focus on him sharper, hotter.

  She ached inside, wanting him there, but knowing he was right, damn him. When his other hand found the damp between her thighs again, she cried out, convulsing against his touch. He moved against her palm, arching hard into her touch.

  This time he shattered with her, and it was his growl of pleasure that bounced off the walls.

  * * *

  SOMEONE WAS POUNDING. On something hard. Tara opened her eyes to darkness.

  “Stay here.”

  That was Morgan’s voice. Everything came rushing back. That she remembered, but what was going on now? She felt the mattress move and could tell he was refastening his jeans. She felt her cheeks flame.

  “I’ll be right back,” he whispered.

  He stood and suddenly a small light over the fridge blazed bright in the tiny space.

  “What time is it?” Tara covered her eyes against the sudden light.

  “I don’t know. Late. Sorry.” He didn’t bother to put on a shirt. The pounding started again. “Stay here.”

  He turned to climb down, then stopped. “Just so you know, I’m not hiding you. I don’t want you getting any crap.” He smiled, then disappeared out the driver’s door of the truck.

  As soon as he left, she scrambled off the mattress and fished her missing clothes from beside the bed. How had they gotten there? She didn’t want to know and let herself smile as she redressed.

  She hadn’t had very many serious relationships. And she certainly wasn’t the one-night-stand type. Relationships always got her into trouble because she was so focused, and sometimes that focus got too much like tunnel vision. She’d decided to put all her energy into her business, but now she had to figure out how to do both. She had to. She wanted both Morgan and her business in her life.

  The door opened and she stepped into the shadows.

  “Thanks, man. I’ll be right back.” Morgan shut the door and was right there again.

  “Hi.” She smiled up at him.

  “Hi.” He smiled back and reached out to finish re-buttoning her shirt, this time straight. “I wish I could stay and undo all this all over again.” He kissed her, fast and deep. “But I gotta go.”

  He reached over her head and pulled a clean shirt and his jacket out of a cupboard.

  “Where to?” She asked it casually, but his hesitation took all the casual out of everything. He didn’t want to tell her. And the longer they stood, staring at each other, the more she realized he wasn’t going to.

  Why did that realization hurt?

  “I really gotta go.” He turned and opened the door again. “Give me about ten minutes, then leave. There aren’t too many people out here.”

  Only her customers and staff. “Yeah. Sure.” He closed the door with a loud wham, and she sank to sit on the edge of the bunk. He was gone, and she had no idea what he thought of anything. Her cheeks warmed and she buried her face in her hands.

  Ten minutes was a hell of a long time all of a sudden.

  * * *

  TARA STARED AT the nearly full parking lot. Not very many people? Right. What parking lot had Morgan been looking at? She hurried toward the diner, knowing her staff had expected her back ages ago. Maybe with the crowd, they’d been too busy to notice. Yeah, right.

  Several people were actually standing around the doorway, waiting to be seated. She slipped through, a rush of excitement going through her. This was what she’d hoped for, what she needed to make a go of this place.

  “Wow, we might not be able to get a seat,” a woman said, making Tara turn around.

  “We’ll get in,” the man beside her reassured her. “I don’t mind waiting, if you don’t.” Tara had to see this guy. Even her brother Wyatt, the kindest of her siblings, wouldn’t make such a syrupy sweet promise.

  He was young. And the woman with him was about the same age. They gave each other what she used to think of as puppy-dog eyes. Before the urge to roll her eyes grew too strong to ignore, she headed into the kitchen to see where she should help.

  “Must be nice to be a rich business owner who doesn’t have to work.” A voice came from around the corner before Tara entered the prep area. She froze. She had to think a minute to figure out who it was. One of the part-time evening waitresses—Kaitlyn. She’d just started here.

  Tara gulped back her disappointment.

  “You don’t know what’s going on,” Wendy said around the clatter of dishes.

  Tara started to step around the corner, then froze. “She’s always watching us. I hate that. She doesn’t trust us.” The sneer in the girl’s voice hurt.

  “You’re paranoid,” Wendy said.

  “I am not.”

  “Then why are you so worried about what she thinks? Doing something you shouldn’t?”

  “No,” Kaitlyn said too quickly.

  “That wasn’t very con
vincing.” Wendy’s voice was louder, as if she’d just turned around to face where Tara stood. “Stop being stupid and just do your job. It’s a new place. She’s just watching to see how things are going.”

  Wendy came around the corner then, a serving tray hoisted up on her shoulder. She paused, catching herself from tripping, barely. Tara met her employee’s gaze, making sure not to look away.

  “Where have you been? Are you okay?”

  Tara didn’t even know how to answer. She saw the real concern in Wendy’s eyes.

  “Fine.” She stepped toward the swinging doors. “Just got caught up. Sorry.”

  The silence was heavy. Wendy nodded, though she looked closely at Tara, as if searching for something beyond her words.

  Tara stepped through the doors. She didn’t think Kaitlyn had known she was there. She knew she could never really be friends with her employees, but she thought she had a good relationship with them all. The reality that a lot of it was a lie hurt.

  Slowly, Tara stepped around the corner, making sure Kaitlyn saw her. Did the girl wonder if she’d been there before? Did she care that Tara might have overheard their conversation?

  Tara kept walking, heading for her office. She didn’t owe anyone any explanations. She’d left the diner, not even thinking about how long she’d be gone. She hadn’t planned to end up in Morgan’s arms, or feel so comfortable there that she fell asleep.

  Inside the small office, she sank into the wooden chair in the corner. Its usual comfort did little good today.

  She was doing it again, wasn’t she? Letting a guy distract her, letting someone else affect her ability to succeed. The last shivers of pleasure from being with Morgan slowly melted away.

  * * *

  MORGAN MADE DEWEY drop him off a mile from the site. “I want to scope out the place first. I’m not promising anything.”

  Dewey had frowned but nodded. He knew Morgan well enough to know that he’d lose if he pushed him. There was only one reason Morgan was even here, and fighting was the least of his wishes.

  Something Dewey had said, about Tate calling the authorities when Mack got too rough, came to mind. He wondered if the authorities were in on this deal since this location was entirely too obvious.

  He took several trips around the area before approaching the door.

  He’d worked too danged hard to clean up his reputation and leave his past behind to risk a trip to jail. He might get sucked in again, but a part of him hoped he’d be able to pull back. Finally, convinced it was clear, he hit the side door, slipping inside before anyone could see him. He stayed in the shadows as best he could. He’d just go in quick, look around, then leave. If he didn’t find Sylvie... He’d deal with that disappointment after.

  The old days rushed back with a contact adrenaline high. His stomach turned from the intensity that hung in the air. Simultaneously, he wanted to jump into the ring to join in and head out the door to run as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

  People, mostly men like those twentysomethings he’d seen earlier, filled the area between a circle of bright yellow school buses. Really, school buses? He almost rolled his eyes.

  There were a few women mixed in. He wanted to find Sylvie, but not here. Not like this. Because if she was here, where was Brooke? Who was she with? Worrying about her left a weight in his gut.

  Slowly, Morgan wove through the crowd, pushing gently to make progress. He didn’t want to be recognized, and he didn’t think he would be. He’d been out of the game long enough.

  “Thane!” A voice broke through the din, and Morgan cringed. No, please, don’t know me. He tried to keep going, knowing that if Sylvie were here, she’d be running now. He needed to get out of the crowd, get far enough away to see her leave.

  “It’s Thane!” Another voice broke the night. He couldn’t ignore them now.

  “I’m not here for a match,” he told the beefy guy ahead of him.

  “Yeah?” The guy crossed thick arms over his wide, muscled chest. “You sure?”

  “Positive.” Morgan wasn’t in the mood to fight, but neither was he one to back down from a challenge. Especially not when the one doing the asking was big as a house and someone Morgan had clocked before.

  “Not looking for a rematch?” Bull growled, leaning in close.

  Morgan lifted his hands in surrender. “Not tonight, man.” He took a step back. “I’m retired.”

  Just then, a woman’s all-too-familiar laugh came across the crowd. Morgan spun around, at first not seeing her, then catching a glimpse of someone who looked like Sylvie. Sort of.

  The same height, same body—but the blue eyes that he’d once thought were beautiful he now saw were cold as ice. Dear heaven, had there ever been any warmth in Sylvie’s eyes? Did she look at their daughter with those eyes? She didn’t look in his direction.

  “Sylvie,” he whispered and took a couple of steps toward her. She looked so different. If she hadn’t laughed, he doubted he’d have recognized her with blue hair and tattoos. A shiver of fear told him he couldn’t lose her now. He might never find her again. He struggled to control his desperation.

  Sylvie tipped her head back and laughed again, this time at the man beside her. She actually batted her eyelashes at the fool. Drama had always been her talent, and she knew how to play the crowd. Bull was practically salivating as he stared at her. “You aren’t getting near her, Morgan. She’s mine. She doesn’t want to see you.”

  That hurt, but he swallowed the injury. “I don’t believe you.” And he didn’t, not really. But that tiny feather of doubt was difficult to completely ignore.

  Then she was moving away from him through the mass of bodies, bodies that managed to step in between them, blocking him. “Sylvie,” he called, the sound of his voice disappearing in the noise of the crowd. Morgan turned to follow her.

  “Don’t even think about followin’ the lady,” Bull said.

  Morgan knew he could take on the mountain of a man and maybe win. Maybe. He’d been out of this too long. And while he’d kept up the workouts, he wasn’t sure how well he’d really fare. Bull looked like he had other things in mind than a fair fight.

  Morgan wasn’t going to back down, though. He’d never been good about that. His father had taught him well. Backing down only made the beating worse. “You going to stop me?”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  Morgan saw Bull’s fist up close and personal an instant before he ducked away—an instant too slow. Pain shot through his right cheek, and the red he saw was as much from his busted face as it was the roar of rage that exploded inside him.

  No backing down now. No following Sylvie, either, damn it.

  He’d failed tonight. But he wasn’t ready to give up. The big man in front of him stumbled back from the power behind Morgan’s first punch, and he continued to retreat with each consecutive blow. None of the fist falls that Bull threw could keep Morgan back, though two shots to the ribs nearly did. Nothing slowed him down. He relished the pain.

  For the first time in months, his blood rushed in his veins, and he felt alive.

  When the big man finally fell on his backside in the dirt, he didn’t get up. Morgan stopped, something he was fairly certain Bull wouldn’t have done.

  Standing there in the now dim light, inside a circle of strangers who yelled words he couldn’t hear through the rushing in his ears and the sawing of the breath in his lungs, Morgan stared.

  What was wrong with him? He’d left this all behind and she’d dragged him into it. He cursed, loud and long before turning and stalking through the crowd. She had to still be here, but it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. He headed to the exit. Maybe he’d see her leave.

  The night air engulfed him, cooling his anger and the sweat on his body. He took in half a dozen gulps before his equilibrium retu
rned.

  He called himself every shade of a fool. The crowd was still inside, calling out for the next match. Fickle and foolish, those people saw the fights as nothing more than a way to make money and be entertained.

  He’d been like that once upon a time. Before he’d learned the reality of icing injuries in the wee hours of the morning.

  The pain grew. In his hand, radiating up his arm. In his face. Where the hell was Dewey? He cursed, waiting and watching. Just in case Sylvie showed again.

  Time stretched out. Nothing. It was going to be a mighty long walk to town.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE WIND CUT through the night, chilling Tara. She pulled her jacket tighter, taking her time crossing the wet pavement. It felt almost cold enough for the standing water from the past few days to freeze.

  While she now had plenty of staff, they were in no way ready to be on their own if she fell and got hurt. She couldn’t afford to leave them in charge. Not yet, but hopefully at some point.

  She’d parked on the far corner of the lot when she’d got here, leaving room closer to the door for customers. Lots of customers was a good thing. Really. Except when it was the end of the night, and she had to battle against the weather.

  Now she almost regretted that decision. Brrr.

  Morgan’s truck was still parked at the edge of the lot, dark and silent. He wasn’t back. Where had he gone in such a hurry? That same question had plagued her all through her shift.

  Still more rain came down as she hurried through the dark. In the few minutes it took to walk to her car, she was drenched. Her fingers were cold and slippery. She had to pull the door handle twice, losing her grip the first time. Her fingertips burned from the slip. Damn it.

  The dome light came on, light puddling at her feet with the raindrops. She tossed her purse, which landed on the seat with a squish. Great. She’d have to dry it out, too.

  With a sigh of relief, she plopped behind the wheel and leaned back. She slammed the door closed, thankful for the relative warmth. The yard light glowed off the drops on the windshield, and in the distance, brake lights from cars at the stoplight spread red, then the green light added its glow on the glass.